Senses
by deadeb03
Summary: Vegeta becomes addicted to Bulma...one sense at a time.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Blood.

But it wasn't the scent of clean blood from a fresh cut that woke Vegeta. Not the kind of smell that made his own blood pulse faster with excitement throughout his body. This blood was sour and tainted with a peculiar odor he'd never encountered until coming to this place. What was worse, it was accompanied by a strong flowery scent he assumed was meant to mask the other. The overpowering combination made him sick to his stomach.

He wrinkled his nose against the assault before cracking open one eyelid. Even before catching sight of the odor's origin, he knew where it came from.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Vegeta demanded of the intruder.

"Well, excuse me!" Bulma shot back at him, facing him defiantly with one hand on her hip. "This happens to be my house!"

He groaned and dropped his feet to the floor as he sat on the edge of the bed. He knew that tone. If he didn't escape her sight soon, he'd end up with a headache from her constant barrage of complaints.

It had only taken him a few months of living with this woman to link the scent with the mood. Vegeta even gave the monthly occurrence a name - Hell Week - and learned the only way to live through it with any sanity was to stay as far away from her as possible. All he wanted was to get something to eat and go out to the gravitation chamber to train.

"Why don't you just get out of my bedroom?" he growled from between clenched teeth.

"Why don't you learn to do your own laundry?" she snipped, grabbing up the clothes he'd discarded on the floor the night before. She then picked up a neatly folded pile of clean clothes and tossed them at him. "Here's your royal raiments, Your Highness," she added, dropping an exaggerated curtsy to go with her sarcasm.

Vegeta picked them up and tossed the sheet away from his midsection. As he stood, ready to head for the bathroom to shower, he was a little disappointed his nakedness didn't receive at least a small reaction from her. That only proved that Hell Week had, indeed, begun.

He much preferred her other dominant scent. That odor was much more pleasing to his sharp senses. A rich, musky odor that was also accompanied by a much better attitude he wished lasted much longer. Vegeta termed this time Bitch in Heat; mostly because during these days, that pitiful excuse of a boyfriend of hers hung around, sniffing around her skirts. He couldn't understand why she kept allowing him back in her house. She obviously couldn't smell the other women on him as easily as Vegeta could. Usually, he reeked of them.

"I can't understand how one man can sweat so much," Bulma complained as she jammed his dirty clothes in the basket she carried. "These things stink!"

"Look who's talking," Vegeta said under his breath. He slammed the bathroom door shut behind him so he wouldn't have to listen to her rebuttal.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

That voice.

"Vegeta, can you hear me?"

So familiar, and yet so strange. It wasn't his native language, although he recognized the tone before deciphering the words. Someone was worried. Worried about him.

"Vegeta, please answer me."

Vegeta couldn't remember anyone being worried about him before. Just as he'd never worried about anyone else. Any emotions that showed weakness had either been bred or beaten out of him long ago. And he took great pride in it. Emotions were just extra baggage that could affect a warrior's efficiency.

"Vegeta?"

The voice was becoming clearer, but he hesitated to answer it. Maybe it was just a memory of a voice from long ago. If he answered it, he might drive the memory away. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He liked the sound of that voice.

"Oh, Vegeta."

The voice, now laced with the threat of tears, was female. Of that, Vegeta was now positive. Yet he'd known so few females in his lifetime of killing. He concentrated harder, now noticing a dull ache in his head, trying to put a face to the sound. Only momentary flashes of images flitted across the darkness, too quick to see clearly.

"Come on, Vegeta, please open your eyes."

As the pain in his head grew more pronounced, so did his understanding of the words. His eyes were closed. That explained why it was so dark. So if he just opened them, he'd be able to see who was speaking. See who was so worried about him. And why.

"Vegeta."

The voice was now so familiar, Vegeta could almost picture its owner in the back of his mind. Each time the image started to clear, the increasing pain would erase it. He attempted to open his eyes, but the effort cost him a sharp stab to the middle of his forehead. He tried to move his arms, legs, neck...anything...but nothing would respond. He couldn't even smell anything. Like something was covering part of his face.

"Can you hear me?"

He could hear, but couldn't move. It seemed like his limbs were set in solid rock. Even his eyelids refused to cooperate. Tentatively, he moved his tongue, relieved when it responded immediately. He tried to swallow, but his throat seemed so dry it could've been coated with desert sand.

"Please don't die."

Die? He wouldn't die. The memory of the gravity chamber explosion came suddenly to the foreground of Vegeta's mind. It happened so fast, and he'd been so tired from training, there was no escape from the blast. That was the reason he was in so much pain. He cursed himself for being so weak.

"Vegeta!"

The pleading scream assaulted his now alert ears. Now he recognized the voice! The fact that he'd never heard her worry over him before must be the reason he didn't recognize it at first. It sounded much better than the usual demanding tone she used whenever she was near him. It almost sounded...nice. Having someone worry about him was a new experience, but one he could definitely get used to.

"Vegeta, answer me, dammit!" Bulma shouted.

"Shut up, woman! You're giving me a headache!" Vegeta croaked from behind the oxygen mask.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Another new dress?

This one was bright yellow with a wide, white belt cinched around her narrow waist. The top was cut low, the bottom cut high. Both revealing her smooth, milky skin.

"Good morning, Vegeta," Bulma sang as she set the tray she carried on the desk beside his bed. She reached up and pulled the curtains open, bathing herself in the bright sunshine.

"Don't you ever wear the same clothes twice?" Vegeta grumbled. He knew he sounded like a grouch, but the frustration of completing such a simple task as sitting up was beginning to wear on his nerves.

"And here I didn't think you noticed what I wore," she replied with a teasing grin. "Do you like it?"

As Bulma turned in a circle, the last thing Vegeta noticed was what she wore. He noticed her muscles were firm from staying active. He noticed the bold grace in which she moved. He noticed how well proportioned she was, from her long neck to her small feet. He noticed how the sunlight danced across her blue hair and sparkled in her eyes.

He also noticed how odd it was that he'd never noticed it all before!

"What's to like?" Vegeta said, forcing his eyes away. "They're just clothes."

"The typical male answer would have been 'yes', no matter what they thought," Bulma laughed and picked up the tray once more. "But then again, you are not a typical male."

She leaned partly over him as she placed the tray across his lap. The soft smell of flowers tickled his nose. Without being conspicuous, he inhaled deeply before she pulled back.

It wasn't Hell Week, but neither did she smell like a Bitch in Heat. This scent was soft, yet bold. Light, yet sassy. Sweet, yet tangy. This scent was pure Bulma.

"A typical man," she continued as he ate, "would milk an injury for all it's worth. Enjoying the rest and relaxation while being waited on, hand and foot."

"Rest is for the weak," he said between mouthfuls.

"I know, I know," Bulma said. "Like I said, you're not typical. But, need I remind you what the doctor told you? Your body won't heal right if you don't take care of it."

"I know my body better than anyone!" Vegeta snapped, regretting the harsh tone when Bulma winced. He sighed. "What I wouldn't give for a rejuvenation tank or one of those Sensu beans."

"Yeah, well since we don't have either one, you'll just have to make do."

As she reached to retrieve the empty tray, Vegeta was, again, struck by how soft and white her arms and neck were. He wondered how she would look, darkened by his home planet's brutal sun.

He much preferred how she looked now.

"I know it's a waste of time trying to convince you to stay in bed," Bulma said. "But at least stay upstairs. Then when the doctor asks, I won't have to lie when I say I haven't seen you up and training."

She closed the door softly behind her. Without her musical voice or bright smile, the room suddenly seemed too quiet and dreary. Even the sunlight from the window dimmed as if it had only been there in the first place to shine on Bulma.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

How could hands that small feel so good?

"You overdid it...again!" Bulma pointed out. She worked the strong-smelling medicine into Vegeta's tight muscles with long, hard strokes.

"I did not overdo it," Vegeta argued.

As much as he enjoyed her touch, he wished the doctor's prescription didn't have to smell so horrid. Although she was standing right next to him, he was having a hard time picking out her scent. And she had smelled so good when she first came into his room. A combination of fresh air and cinnamon joined her own, particular aroma, sending his olfactory nerves into a frenzy of delight. But now all he could smell was that sharp, unpleasant odor of medicine.

"And I told you I would do this myself," he added, hoping she wouldn't see through the lie.

"Yeah, sure you would," she said with a laugh that sounded like music to Vegeta's ears after the long day of solitary silence. She finished with the back of his legs and paused to apply more cream before starting on his back. "And since you can't reach these muscles yourself, I might as well do them all."

Vegeta stretched his neck back and forth as Bulma kneaded the aches away. The cream penetrated his skin on contact and spread a soothing warmth deep into the muscles. He knew without her administrations, he wouldn't have been able to get the comfortable rest he needed to heal; but he wasn't about to admit that to her.

He settled his head to the side and watched as her hips swayed back and forth with the movement of her arms. At night, she usually changed into more comfortable clothes, and tonight she was wearing shorts and a t-shirt with the name of her father's company printed across her chest. Labeled clothing seemed strange to him - he'd never seen it on any other planet - and he suspected it was invented with the express purpose of drawing the eyes to particular parts of the body. When she turned to grab the cream container, he found himself staring at the label printed on her back pocket.

"OK, flip over," Bulma ordered.

"Easy for you to say," Vegeta grumbled, tearing his eyes from her backside and forcing his relaxed muscles to respond. He tried to move smoothly, but winced when a sharp pain shot through one shoulder. Luckily, her back was still turned, so his pride was as intact as it could be given his shamefully weakened state.

Again, Bulma began the massage at his feet. She rubbed up one leg to the knee, then the other. As she worked on each thigh, he felt a peculiar mixture of disappointment and relief that she always stopped a respectable distance from the top of each leg. He was also glad he was able to control each and every muscle in his body. If he hadn't, she would've been able to tell immediately how her touch affected him.

Vegeta closed his eyes while she worked on his chest and arms. The sight of her leaning over him pressed his control to its very limits. Instead, he concentrated on taking deep, even breaths. To keep his mind occupied, he ran through battle strategies and training exercises. Before he had to resort to reviewing past purging missions, she was finished. Even though the medicine still warmed his muscles, his skin felt suddenly cold without her touch.

"All done," Bulma announced and glanced at her watch. She quickly screwed the top on the cream and wiped her hands with a towel.

"Late for something?" Vegeta asked, trying to make the question sound casual.

"An old friend from school is in town and I promised to meet her in an hour. I've got just enough time to get ready." At the door, she snapped her fingers. "I just remembered. I made apple pie today. There's a piece on the kitchen table for you. Hope you like it."

Vegeta choked down the too-sweet, too-syrupy dessert as he listened to Bulma hurry back and forth in her room above him. He was relieved to hear she was seeing a girlfriend instead of rushing off to Yamcha's side, but he couldn't deny the feeling of loss he knew he'd feel when she left. The house always seemed so empty without her.

"Well, I'm off," Bulma said when they met on the stairway. "Goodnight."

She gave Vegeta an impulsive kiss on the lips before she bounded down the rest of the stairs and out the door. Soon he heard the roar of her car engine as she pulled out of the driveway and headed off into the night.

With a sigh, he went to shower off the ill-smelling medicine and wash the memory of her touch out of his skin so he'd be able to sleep without dreaming about her all night long. There was only so far even his control would stretch.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Cherries.

Vegeta could still taste the flavor even though it had been hours since Bulma lips touched his own. It'd been such a quick peck, too. One she would've given any of her friends. Yet the taste of whatever it was she put on her lips rubbed off just enough to stick with him.

He pounded his pillow, trying to get more comfortable, but it wasn't physical comfort that was the problem. Bulma had started to haunt him. He craved the scent of her, listened breathlessly for her voice, yearned for a glimpse of her, and cherished her touch. Now he wanted to see if the rest of her tasted as good as her lips.

Vegeta cursed himself for his weaknesses and flopped onto his back. Staring at the ceiling didn't help either. How had the woman gotten under his skin? How could he have let it happen?

At least he knew when it started. He'd awoke from his accident to find her asleep at his bedside. She'd been there, waiting for him to regain consciousness, for days. He watched her, trying to solve the mystery of her species, through the haze of medicine they pumped into him. It was the middle of the night and there she was, so innocent and vulnerable in her sleep. Quite a change from her usual waking personality. When her eyes opened and she saw he had been staring at her, she didn't get mad. She didn't get defensive. She wasn't uncomfortable in the least. She...smiled.

That was when his body overruled his mind and became addicted to her.

A slam of the front door caught his attention. He knew it had to be Bulma, but wondered why he hadn't heard her vehicle. Had something happened to it?

Her footsteps on the stairs were slow and irregular and he caught what sounded like gasping. He debated on whether or not he should go see what was wrong. If she were fine, he'd look like an idiot. But what if she were hurt?

Finally making a decision, he got up, put on a pair of shorts, and quietly made his way to the door. The hall was dark, but he could make out her shape heading for her room. She had a hand on the wall as if to steady herself and was making a choking sound into the other. Vegeta stepped out, but she ignored him and continued to her room where she flopped across her bed.

"Are you ill?" Vegeta asked from her doorway. He'd never been in her bedroom, and wanted to keep it that way if at all possible.

Bulma's face was buried in her arms, but she shook her head. The way her back heaved, he realized that she was crying.

"Have you been injured?" he asked, taking a half step into the room. "I didn't hear you drive in. Did you have an accident?"

Again, Bulma shook her head. Her sobbing intensified. The relief Vegeta felt that she was unhurt was soon pushed aside by his irritation. He'd put his pride on the line to show he was even remotely interested in her well-being, and now she was going to make him play twenty questions?

"So are you going to tell me what's wrong or not?" he finally snapped and came to stand next to her bed with his arms crossed.

Bulma pushed herself up onto her elbows and wiped at her tears, her voice hitching as she spoke. "I met my friend...at this club...and while we were talking...I saw...I saw..."

Vegeta sighed as another bout of tears overtook her and she grabbed her pillow to cover her face. He was losing patience with her overemotional state, but stayed where he stood just the same.

"I saw Yamcha with another girl! They were kissing on the dance floor in front of everyone!" she blurted out before returning to her already soggy pillow.

He let her cry for awhile, wondering what he was supposed to do. He hadn't been surprised by the news, but she obviously hadn't seen it coming. One part of him wanted to tell her about the number of different female smells he'd noticed on the other man. Another part wanted to just leave her here to deal with her own weakness.

It was the last part that won out over the others. The part that made him sit on the side of her bed, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck and wet his bare chest with her tears as she told him the whole story. How she'd seen Yamcha, the fight they'd gotten in, her friend driving her home.

As he listened, Vegeta inhaled the aroma of Bulma's hair tucked under his chin and closed his eyes as it filled his head. The scent made him feel slightly dizzy and off balance.

Her voice echoed in his chest as she talked and sobbed. The sound was beautiful even though it pained him to hear her so upset.

The moonlight streaming through her window shone on her bare arms and legs, making them even whiter and softer than normal. The sight nearly took his breath away.

Vegeta slowly ran one hand up and down her back while the other stroked her hair. The feel of her was even silkier than he imagined.

Bulma's crying receded and she began to relax against him. Her arms tightened around his neck as if he were a lifeline she had to either cling to with all her might, or let go and perish. Vegeta's arms responded on their own accord, encircling her small frame in a strong band of security.

He had no idea how long they sat there, just holding each other, but Bulma was the first one to move. She pulled back just enough to look into Vegeta's eyes. Hers were red and swollen, but Vegeta thought the tears made them sparkle. His gaze dropped down to her perfect, tiny mouth.

Slowly, so slowly that neither of them knew they'd been moving, they closed the distance between them. Their lips grazed together, gently at first, then with more pressure until their lips parted to save themselves from being crushed between their teeth.

As Vegeta's tongue explored Bulma's mouth - and later, her skin - he knew he could never get enough of this woman. Smell, sound, sight, feel, and taste. He was completely addicted! An addiction he didn't want to break.


End file.
